Deadwood: A Vampire Series (The Darker Side of Deb Book 2)

by Caroline Gebbie

  “Following you… No, I’m not. I have a friend who lives on Silver Street. It’s just around the corner.”

  “Really,” Deb said. All her confidence and all her paranoia had melted. Of course, she could smell this man all the time. If he was with Summer, his scent would be on her, on Nova and maybe even on Deb herself. Was it possible that he just happened to be in this area of town? Of course it was, but it was also possible that the man who came into Summer’s life just at the same time as an assassin was sent after her. It was possible that they were one and the same person. “Where’s Summer? I thought you two had gone away for a few days.”

  “We’re going, just as soon as I see my friend.”

  That was weak Deb thought and she wanted to ask if the friend had a name, but she decided better of it. Now she had a choice; did she try and compel him or did she just walk away? Vincent had told her that vampires could be compelled, but age usually won over youth and if this man was from The Guild then he would be old.

  “Can I help at all?” Isaac asked.

  Deb looked at him as if he were insane. “Help, how could you help?”

  “You’d be surprised but do not worry I won’t tell Summer that you can walk. I’m sure this is a surprise you are saving for your friends. Be careful.”

  With that, he was gone and Deb stood in the street with her knees feeling weak and suddenly she wished she had brought the chair. This had been a valuable lesson. She must not let down her guard. With shaky knees, she walked the last hundred yards to Sally Markham’s front door.

  It was a small terrace house three stories high with only one window on each level. Deb knocked at the door but almost as soon as she did the smell of blood overwhelmed her. Inside someone was bleeding and if she listened very carefully, she could hear their heart beat. It was slowing, struggling to find blood to pump and soon it would stop. Deb pushed at the door and it flew open before her. She raced up the stairs. The blood was coming from the second floor and it was in the bathroom which was the door to her left.

  Pushing through the door Deb saw Sally. She was naked in the bath, her ginger hair flowing around her shoulders and she was so pale and so still that she could be a plastic doll.

  All Deb could see was the blood pumping from Sally’s wrists and she dropped to her knees and grabbed hold of her right hand. The wrist was so close to her mouth that she could taste the blood when realization suddenly dawned on her. Sally was dying and instead of helping her, she was going to feed. Disgust and revulsion washed through her and all she could think of was Alix. Quickly she called his phone but it rang and rang and he did not answer. In desperation, she called Vincent.

  “Hello,” he said with a sleepy voice.

  “Help me,” Deb cried and then she explained, knowing that he would be angry but praying he would help.

  While she did this, Deb had grabbed hold of Sally’s wrists and she held them above her head, keeping them as high as she could. The bleeding had slowed, but it had not stopped. With Vincent’s calm voice on the phone, she did as he bid. First she scraped her tooth across her thumb and wiped spots of her blood across the woman’s wrists. It was amazing to watch as her vampire blood healed Sally’s skin. One minute she was bleeding through a gash on her wrist, the next that same wound was melding together and stopped the blood from flowing.

  “What is her heartbeat like?” Vincent asked. “Put the phone to her chest.”

  Deb did as he asked, but she knew that the heartbeat was too slow and very irregular. “Now what should I do?” She asked.

  “She is very weak and may even die. If you want to save her, bite into your wrist and force her to drink your blood. You will heal quickly but if you hold your wrist to her mouth, she will get enough to save her. Then you just wait. Depending on how far gone she was you may be able to compel her. If she had already died then she will need to get your blood out of her system before you can compel her, she may even turn. It is not an exact art. If you want her to live, do it now.”

  Deb put her teeth to her wrist and bit. Her skin was like old leather, tough and rubbery. At first she could not pierce the vein, but by closing her eyes and fighting back her revulsion, she applied pressure and bit into her wrist. Blood flowed across her teeth tasting coppery and slick. Quickly she forced it to the woman’s lips and soon Sally was drinking from it as if it was ambrosia.

  Deb grabbed the woman from the bath and wrapped her in a big towel. She carried her through to the bedroom and placed her on the bed. Lazy green eyes looked up at her just before Sally fell back to sleep. Deb listened to her heartbeat and it was slow, relaxed but strong. She was going to survive. While she slept, Deb closed the front door and cleaned out the bathroom. It took her over an hour and just as she finished, she could hear Sally stirring.

  Deb crept into the bedroom just as Sally came awake. The woman’s eyes opened wide and she was about to scream. Deb moved in close and focused on the girl’s eyes. She watched as the green pupils before her dilated.

  “Sally, I am not going to hurt you. Do you remember going to see Jonathan Meeks?”

  Sally shook her head, but Deb could see the pain on her face. It was as if the very mention of his name caused her to hurt.

  “Sally, you do remember going to see Meeks but you are safe now. He tried to hypnotize you to commit suicide. You thought it was a joke until you looked into other suicides and you found out that all the women had friends who went to see him. You will see this research on your computer and you will call the police at ten o’clock tonight. You will forget I was ever here. You will forget you ever wanted to kill yourself and you will live a good and happy life.”

  Deb held out a pen and paper. “Write down your email address and then sleep for three hours and forget I was ever here.”

  Deb watched as Sally wrote on the paper, then she lay back on the bed and after closing her eyes, she looked so relaxed. Within seconds, the girl was snoring. Deb managed to stifle a giggle of pure joy. She had saved this girl and with a feeling of euphoria, she silently left the room.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Deb was almost skipping as she made her way back to the car. She had solved another crime. She had made it safe for more women and it felt amazing. There was just one more thing she needed to do and that would be easy for Nova. Now she had to go back to the chair but tonight even that would not depress her.

  As she approached the car, a figure rose from the shadows and Deb felt her fangs appear in her gums and she launched forward.

  “Stop,” Vincent screamed. “What are you doing, you stupid girl?”

  Deb’s world collapsed around her whenever things started to go well. Mr. Vincent Fox always seemed to poop on her life and make her feel like shit again. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “You called me. I came to see if you needed help and the next thing I see is you strolling down the street for the whole world to see. What are you doing?”

  “No one knows me here,” Deb said. But now she definitely could not tell him about Isaac, which was a shame because there was something unusual about him. Maybe she should talk to Vincent and try to explain that Isaac smelled peculiar and that he gave her the creeps. She didn’t have to mention that he caught her walking.

  “Someone is watching you. If not now they will be soon. These excursions of yours need to stop.” Vincent shouted at her.

  “I did some good here tonight,” she said while every fiber of her body told her to tell him about Isaac but she couldn’t do it. Not while he was being such an ass. “How did you find me?”

  “My vampire powers,” he said with a sly smile that told her he was hiding something. “Get home now where I can keep you safe.”

  Deb thought about telling him about Brett, about how she had to look into the vampire kills, but she knew he would not understand. For now, she would go home but it was time that Vincent started treating her with some respect. She decided that she was going to tell him. She turned, but he no longer looked angry
only concern flashed across his face.

  “Where is Alix?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” Deb replied. “He was there at my last stop. I could smell him.” Now she could mention that she had smelled another.

  “This is a concern. Go home now.”

  Deb opened her mouth to speak, but Vincent was gone.

  ***

  Nova looked cute and comfortable in a big pink fluffy cardigan and yellow jeans. She was working on Deb’s computer and had a packet of biscuits open on the desk. “Want one?” she asked as Deb walked in.

  “No. No thanks. We need to plant some information on two computers. We need to do it quickly and it can’t be traceable.” Deb stopped talking and she could see Nova staring at her as if she had gone mad. How could she explain?

  “That doesn’t sound legal. I can’t do something that’s illegal.”

  Deb wheeled across the room, almost colliding with the desk, but she was close to her friend. “Remember that case last night. How the therapist was hypnotizing those girls and they were killing themselves?”

  Nova’s eyes were like golf balls, but she nodded.

  “I saved a girl’s life today, but there is no proof. I went through some techniques my Physio taught me and she remembered a bit but I have no evidence. If we don’t put him away, he will do this again.” Deb searched on the desk until she found the suicide notes with the same creepy words in all of them. “Remember, Sorry I can’t Cope?”

  “Okay, what do I need to do?”

  Deb smiled and was pleased that she didn’t have to compel Nova again. It was much easier working with her friend than forcing her. “Here,” she said and passed her some notes.

  All they had to do was make a trail. Deb had already compelled the therapist to leave his notebook in his office. Normally he kept it in a safe-deposit box and only used it when he had the need.

  “I’ve set up an untraceable account,” Nova said. “From that I can make it look like this information was originally found on the recipient’s hard drive.”

  Deb barely understood what she was saying, but it sounded like it was what she wanted. “How long before it’s done?”

  “All finished,” Nova said. “Anything else?”

  Deb remembered her promise to Brett and the work she had done the night before. There was more to do, but she needed Nova not to ask too many questions. “I was looking into Angela Sykes death last night. You know the one Brett thought was a vampire kill.”

  Nova laughed and Deb continued. “I found others like her but I need you to look into them for me. Can we do that?”

  “Sure,” Nova said. “Have you eaten?”

  Deb laughed. “You get started, I’ll get the food. Now, what do you want?”

  “Beef sandwiches, a muffin and some ice-cream,” Nova said her eyes already on the screen and her fingers flying across the keyboard.

  “You know my uncle doesn’t eat bread… but Brett might have some; I’ll see what I can do.”

  Deb went down the lift and managed to make a sandwich. The problem was coming up with something she could eat. She searched the kitchen and tried a little beef but it tasted dry and stuck in her throat. At last, she got herself a cup of bone broth. It would keep her going and hopefully later Vincent would bring her another flask of blood. She knew she should be disgusted and she hoped that she would be able to eat again but for now, all that mattered was keeping her strength up.

  Going back to the room with a tray on her knee was not an easy task. She had never quite mastered the art of carrying things smoothly in her wheelchair and at the moment she was particularly clumsy. Leaving her own cup on the floor of the lift, she took Nova’s meal and then came back for hers.

  “How you doing?” she asked.

  Nova was very pale and she looked terrified. “I think Brett could be right. Look at these.”

  She showed Deb an assortment of photos and all had the twin bite marks from a vampire. They were not neat like you see in the movies. In many cases, the skin was ripped and torn around the original wound but they all looked so similar. Deb knew she had no choice but to tell her friend. As she opened her mouth, her phone rang. Raising her eyebrows at Nova she answered. “Hello.”

  “Do not tell her. If you do, you put her in extreme peril and I cannot guarantee her safety. Are you listening to me, Deborah?”

  “Yes, yes of course. Any advice?”

  “Make up a story about a serial killer you read about somewhere. There was a guy who used to eat his victims. I think someone is here. I have to go.”

  He was gone and Deb turned back to Nova. There were more and more prints and Deb did not know what to say.

  “Look at these,” Nova said.

  “Yep,” Deb managed. “Looks like we have another serial killer in our midst.”

  She watched as the tension dropped out of Nova’s body. It was much easier to believe that it was a person doing this and they would keep looking. Maybe Deb could find who it was and maybe she would be strong enough to kill them.

  ***

  Outside Vincent sat in the oak tree and breathed in deeply. There was a scent on the wind, someone was here, someone was watching. Silently he slipped from the tree vowing to do his best to protect Deborah. He just hoped that he could keep that promise.

  I hope you enjoyed reading Deadwood - The Darker Side of Deb part 2 as much as I enjoyed writing it. Part 3 Blackwood will be available early in 2015.

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  As a bonus below is the first chapter of Tears another of my books – be warned this one is extreme horror so only read if you dare.

  Tears Chapter 1

  The room was crypt-like in its austerity and shrouded in darkness. Sparse furniture adorned its plain walls and the place had an empty vacant feel. Silently, the curtains twitched as if moved by an unseen hand. They sent a shadowy finger flickering across the floor. In and out, they breathed, tracing across the carpet and over the bed. The thin material fluttered away from the window, across a worn carpet and then fell back into blackness. The house was deadly quiet. Silent as a rock, it held its breath. Even the floorboards held back their creaks as if they waited for phantom footsteps to pass by in the dead of the night. The curtain was sucked back even further, and then the silence was broken as a bloodcurdling scream shattered the peace.

  The sound was of torture, despair and death. It echoed around the walls and then was gone just as soon as it started. All that remained was the rustling of covers as limbs jerked spasmodically against their restraints.

  Beneath the door, the light came on and slow, confident footsteps approached. The door opened and light spilled in, illuminating a stark room with just a bed, dresser and wardrobe. Nothing was out of position, even the brush and comb were placed with military precision. Someone lay smothered within a dark-blue duvet. A groan of anguish came from beneath those covers as they thrashed ineffectually at the molasses grip of a nightmare.

  Lola approached the bed. She was a small girl at five foot four with short brown hair and a plain face. Usually, a timid rabbit caught in the headlights of life yet here she was in control. She lacked trepidation in her body and face, but upon closer inspection, she wore a look of sadness that consumed her. Sitting on the bed, she reached across. Her hand gripped onto a powerful arm soaked with sweat. Yet, for her, there was nothing to fear, this had been played out before and would be again. Gently she shook and felt the muscles tense beneath her fingers.

  Instantly awake, Dean sat up. “What?” he said, his voice hoars
e and little more than a whisper. Before the small girl, he was a beast of a man captured by his nightmare, but not beaten. His eyes scanned the room as his hand rose from beneath the pillow holding a Glock 20/10mm semi-automatic. The weapon followed his eyes as he searched the gloom. With a satisfied grunt, they returned and focused on his daughter. Shame colored his face; it was just a dream. “Lola, my God, I’m sorry,” he said.

  Leaning against the headboard, he pushed the gun back beneath his pillow and ran a hand across his brow. A glance at his watch showed it was two in the morning; always two in the morning. “I’m sorry,” he muttered again. Then more cheerfully, “You want a drink?”

  Lola smiled a cheeky grin. She was used to these nightly excursions and didn’t mind. Her dad was a hero, and she would do anything for him. “Sure,” she said. “I’d love a gin.”

  Dean pretended to bat her around the ear, but instead he pulled her close and hugged her tight. She was his strength, and he did not know how he would cope without her, or what he would do if anything happened to his little princess. With the Glock beneath his pillow, he was satisfied it never would. “Hilarious little lady; now back to bed.”

  She smiled that sad almost haunting smile that made him feel small, so insignificant and as if, he knew nothing about the world. The thing was; he knew nothing about hers. All his training was about killing. Ask him the most efficient way to gut someone, and he could answer with confidence, but what did that have to do with raising a teenage daughter?

  “Okay Dad, but I’m fine. See you in the morning. By the way, my friend Drude thinks you’re getting better.”

  Dean sat still with a stupid expression on his face as he tried to stay neutral. Not that again.

  Lola walked out of the room whispering. It sounded as if she was talking to someone. Dean felt the acid in his stomach start to boil threatening to expel the Jack Daniels he had downed to help him sleep. Once the door closed, he let out a sigh and clasped his fingers into his palms. They dug into the skin, lifting off previous scabs and gave him a jolt of pain that flushed his system with endorphins and forced him to fully wake. Hopefully, he would stay that way for the rest of the night. After Lola was at school, he could catch a few hours of sleep before starting his shift. Something would have to be done about this Drude, but so far he was stumped. He picked up a hunting magazine and let go of the thought. That was usually his best way of getting answers. Let his subconscious think about it while he distracted himself with something else. Only, this problem was elusive and he had nothing.